


All-American Extraordinaire

by With_a_backwards_w



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Angst, How Do I Tag, KIND of canon, M/M, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 06:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17575709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/With_a_backwards_w/pseuds/With_a_backwards_w
Summary: But as the world he knew grew, Kevin Price's cracks and faults were slowly brought to life, standing there, on show for anyone to see if they dared stray off the marble path of perception he had so meticulously planned out for them.Kevin Price is a stellar example of a good Mormon. He's just a little bit cracked, mended with Blu-tack and sticky tape. No one can see it though. Not until Connor McKinley comes along.





	All-American Extraordinaire

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaa my first work! Uh, this is kinda messy because I haven't written fanfiction in a while, and I'll probably rewrite it later along the line, but oh well
> 
> There's a pretty graphic rape scene here. I've added dividers ~ ~ ~ so if you don't want to read it, the story can end at a nice spot there too.

He painted the world with cracks.

That was actually kind of an exaggeration, as they had always been there. They had just started out small and insignificant, like a needle pressed into a wall, not a knife. But as the world he knew grew, Kevin Price's cracks and faults were slowly brought to life, standing there, on show for anyone to see if they dared stray off the marble path of perception he had so meticulously planned out for them.

  
Albeit this, he was a good Mormon boy. He followed every rule in the book, listened at church, and loved all life. He tried to be just like his Heavenly Father in the skies. But Heavenly Father had no cracks. He had painted the world whole, with love under every stroke. Kevin imitated love, sure. He loved his siblings, all five of them, even as they poked him or pulled his brown hair, which he had spent the morning smothering with gel until it was perfect. He loved his parents, even when they scolded him for not praying every night, even when they pressured him and Hannah together, even when they mercilessly watched Jack's tears drip down his eyes as he was berated over and over again for lying. Kevin loved, but there were other times when he didn't love; when he only pretended to love his friends, who looked up to him with stars in his eyes like he was the greatest person in the world, when he only pretended to love his teachers, when they gave him another gold star for excellent behaviour. He loved the attention, sure, but love was never a thing that entered into his mind for these people. He hid his cracks and faults under the label of love. That was the price he paid to be a perfect Mormon boy, and nothing could ever ruin that. He told the truth, but sometimes not all of it. Nowhere in Leviticus did it say to tell your parents you actually ate the donut when you were five, he reasoned to himself. He was perfectly whole, like the Lord had intended, although stuck together with Blu-tack and sticky tape.

And that was how it worked for 7 years of his life.

Kevin Price, or Elder Kevin Price, was nineteen now. He was fire and brimstone, a Mormon who everyone would be envious of, if Envy wasn't one of the Seven Deadly Sins. He had practically memorised the Book Of Mormon and had grown up on it, as if it was his life energy, as if it was why he got out of bed in the morning. Maybe it was, no one could ever tell. His world was whole, and made of metal and screws instead of the Blu-tack he once used. He had plastered the cracks, the previous half-truths and half-loves, and the cracks in his wall, his wall that was once porcelain and glass, now barely registered in anyone's mind. The world was Kevin Price's to take, and he was going to take it with full arms. He could see a future that was close by. Orlando, with a true friend for once, one that didn't hide under the words of so-called "love", but was actually an equal, with a group of missionaries that worshipped him, and no hell dreams ever again. He would stay behind after his mission was complete and find a nice Mormon girl and marry, buy a white picket-fence house, and have six kids and a dog. It was so perfectly mapped out, and nothing could ever ruin that. He was going to become a doctor from Harvard and start his own clinic. He was going to help others and finally do something tangible, magical, maybe even incredible. He was going to be practically perfect, incredible.

What went wrong?  
Maybe everything was doomed the moment the Lord above decided he was going to Uganda instead of Orlando. He had prayed so fervently, and Heavenly Father hadn't given it to him. But God works in mysterious ways. Maybe he was part of something bigger than himself, and in the end, once he gets to the Celestial Kingdom, He will give Kevin his own Planet Orlando. Yes, he had decided. That was what was happening. This was all a test of courage, and Kevin was to be rewarded once this was all done and over with. Nothing was going to ruin this.

The plane was, simply to put, awful. His mission brother, Elder Arnold Cunningham, seemed to have no respect for the scriptures that Kevin had tuned his life to. He was a messy, barely-learned F Lydian to Kevin's neat, basic, yet never boring D Major. He spoke with such unfiltered enthusiasm that Kevin almost spat at him in distaste. Kevin was a good Mormon boy though, and this was simply another challenge his Lord had thrown at him. He smiled the Missionary Training Center approved smile at Elder Cunningham, with his face of nothing but sunshine, but his eyes dull with anticipation, as if he had grown tired of being on edge all the time. This was Uganda he was going to, after all. He could be killed, raped or even worse, excommunicated for any number of silly mistakes possible. Heck, why did the LDS church even send missionaries there? He promptly put that thought out of his mind. It was a blessing to be here. All would be okay. He was going to still do something incredible, even with Arnold, who had an attenton span that Kevin guessed was similar to a seven year old's, stuck to him by the hip.

  
After an incident involving something about baby rape and AIDS and some local warlord, the two missionaries were lead to their hut by Nabulungi, the head villager's daughter, with no luggage whatsoever. Kevin was going to turn this mission upside down though, even after everything that had happened that morning.

Kevin walked, almost strutting, into the dusty old mission hut. He wasn't actually sure if it was old or worn down, or if new dust just blew over the freshy cleaned walls of the house every day. Regardless, it was his new home. A quiet lull entered over the small living room as six boys, all dressed in a white shirt, tie and black pantsuits, looked at the two newcomers. Kevin stared as an older boy, who he assumed was the district leader, shook his hand. He had bright red hair, like fireworks and sparklers in the night, and a pale face, dusted with brown freckles. And his eyes, Kevin thought to no one in particular. They were a pale blue. Not like ice, because they didn't give off a sense on unfamiliarity. No, more like snowflakes, or hot cocoa on a winter day, or grass that was frost-tipped when it was still early in the morning.  
"Elder McKinley, district leader of District 9, Uganda."  
"Elder Price.. district member of District 9, Uganda..?"  
Kevin broke out into giggles as Elder McKinley looked at him in confusion. Elder Cunninghham grinned.  
"I'm Elder Cunningham! I haven't really read _all_ of the Book of Mormon, but I mostly know what it's about!"  
Kevin's suspicions were confirmed.  
"Okay, uh.. Here are your rooms? I've never really done this before."  
McKinley smiled, but it was a little too wide and a little too cheerful to be real.  
Arnold snatched the key and grabbed Kevin's lower arm so tightly the poor missionary thought he had cut off his blood circulation. Elder Cunningham ran towards their room, as Kevin tightly smiled as if to say "All fine!" while Elder McKinley waved them goodbye. Kevin could tell smiles were a form of communication by themselves here. It was starting to feel like family though, even if it was a family that never got close to him, nor saw his cracks. And he couldn't ruin this.

Over the next few days, Kevin Price, all-American extraordinaire, started getting closer to all the other elders. They all seemed to have sob stories and cracks of their own, and Kevin was taken aback by how willingly they let those cracks see the light of day. Maybe there were more cracks that they were hiding, or maybe not. Either way, Kevin Price wasn't going to ruin this.

Kevin also started noticing other things about the elders, like the way Elder Thomas's eyes glinted when he talked about either Poptarts, or Elder Church; or how Elder Neely seemed to be going out 'proselytizing' longer and longer every day; or how Elder McKinley's freckles were more visible at dusk, or how he always had eyebags under his eyes, but never seemed tired, or how he had four different smiles. The first one was his LDS approved smile. Kevin didn't like that one very much. That was the one McKinley used the most. The second was the one he used when someone told a joke and McKinley found it funny. The third was his sarcastic smile. It was nice, if not sassy. The fourth was Kevin's favourite, McKinley's true smile. He used that one the least.

Kevin could admit, maybe he had learned a bit more about Elder McKinley that all the other elders, bar Elder Cunningham, of course. This was just because he saw Elder McKinley more, since he was their district leader and all that. It was how two friends, one who was the boss of the other, got along. And Kevin wouldn't ruin it.

But, of course, as with all good things, the lull and blur of the first few days ended. He and Elder Cunningham had gone out to preach one afternoon and had lost Naba some way through the fourth and fifth rejection they had received that day, when General Butt-Effing-Naked, the same frick-shirting ash-hole that had stolen their luggage when they first arrived, stormed into the village. The blur of time that Kevin had experienced his first couple of days in Uganda returned, though wretched and sticky this time, clinging onto his cracks and spreading them wider, like rubbing salt into open wounds. Kevin couldn't remember much, except the blood. He was so close. He could swear the bullet sent waves across the area and he heard the gun and felt the innocent villager's blood hit him. It was so dirty, the dust that kicked up on the body and the blood all over his crisp uniform, but inside his soul too. It was the dirty that couldn't be scrubbed and it hurt and hurt as he just screamed louder and louder and heard a cackle from somewhere and gosh, how did they even get here in the first place? Gosh, gosh, this God was surely an ash-hole for condemning them to this, something that felt worse than any number of Outer Darkness' Kevin could, would, ever be sentenced to. He tried to find the perfect phrase to match how he was feeling, this sense of wretchedness and patheticness, how his pride had been disassembled and burned, but he couldn't find one, so he just settled for:

"Africa is nothing like the Lion King."

His cracks returned, knives and swords this time instead of needles and pinpricks.

Elder McKinley didn't care. He was running around with a clipboard frantically screaming.  
"Hey, so a funny thing happened while we were ou- What's up with Elder McKinley?"  
A scared Kevin and Elder Cunningham walked into the room, blood and what Kevin thought was probably internal organs splattered over their once neat uniforms.  
"The Mission President is coming in, and we haven't gotten a single baptism!"  
Was that all that mattered now? Kevin thought. He looked at Elder Cunningham, who frankly looked annoyed, and very traumatised. Elder Poptarts, as the other missionaries had started calling Elder Thomas, whispered something in Elder McKinley's ear, and the latter missionary finally saw Elder Price and Elder Cunningham.  
"Jeez.. are you guys okay?"

Kevin had no response to that. He could only remember what he said before, when he was there.  
"Africa is _nothing_ like the Lion King."  
He said this sentence with a hint of anger, and perhaps more animosity than needed, but where all the anger at getting sent to Uganda, their district leader not caring, watching a guy get shot was supposed to be, there was only a pitiful kind of sadness, like the world had broken from the cracks, and the plaster surrounding Kevin Price had been forcefully taken away, cremated, dead. Like there wasn't even Blu-tack to hold his heart together anymore. And the world had finally ruined itself.

Elder Cunningham saw the confused, anguished faces, warily looking at him for more information.  
"We... we watched a guy get shot. We don't know his name, or what he looks like. We just know he's g.. gone."

"Sweetie... I'm so sorry."  
Elder McKinley, with his stupid red curls and snowflake eyes and pale skin ran over to Elder Cunningham and Kevin, and pulled them in for a hug. Kevin didn't react because gosh, he didn't even know the person, yet the other elders were treating him like his freaking mom died. This was stupid. All of it was stupid. He never should have come here in the first place. He should storm up to the mission president and demand to be sent to Orland-

The Mission President was coming. He could request a transfer to District 4, Orlando. He could spend the rest of his two years at Disney and Seaworld and sunny beaches that weren't so hot you needed SPF 110 sunscreen. It would be perfect. In that moment, Kevin forgot about Heavenly Father's plan for him, because if such a Heavenly Father exists, He was a heartless monster. Kevin voiced his plan to the other missionaries, and he couldn't help catch a glimmer of.. regret..? in Elder McKinley's eyes.  
"I'll go with you where-ever! I'm your best friend!"  
Arnold's annoying, incessant voice carried through the awkward silence. Kevin wanted to rip him apart, because he wasn't a good, composed Mormon boy anymore. He was cracked and splintered and in pain.  
"I'm not your best friend! I was just stuck with you during missionary training. Leave me alone!"  
And everything ruined it.

He destroyed his world with cracks. He cracked himself, then his faith, then his mission companion. He was a God awful Mormon, but he didn't care, because his so-called Heavenly Father was a heartless, terrible God, right? Kevin murmured a slur of expletives he didn't think he'd ever say as he went to bed without praying that night.

Kevin was in Orlando. Finally. He last came here when he was seven, and was breathtaken. He still is. He's in Disney World. Kevin never thought he'd be here again. The magical castle seemed more perfect than usual, and for a second, the boy could let himself believe Disney magic was real. He strolled around, looking at all the rides. Wait, was Tomorrowland... cracking? The world fell apart and he was plunged into darkness.

Kevin woke up, his sweat sticky against his skin. He held the clock, with its reassuring glowing blue light, closer to his face.  
_2:20 am_  
He put on his temple garments and slowly walked out of his room, using his hand to feel the space around him. To his surprise, the elder found Elder McKinley, sobbing into a cup of water, curled up on the couch.  
"Are you alright...?"  
The district leader didn't seem to notice Kevin approaching him, and was muttering to himself something about being gay... a reading light... someone called Eve? It was hard to tell. Kevin laid a hand on the other boy's shoulder, and he jumped up in fright, spilling water over his old t-shirt.  
"Elder. I didn't see you there. Take a seat."  
Elder McKinley's eyebags were even more visible in the light of a single candle he had put on the table. He wiped away his tears and looked up at Kevin, as if expecting the latter to say something.  
"D.. do you want me to leave?"  
Kevin turned to leave, but he felt Elder McKinley grab his arm and hold him in place. For how small he was, he was surprisingly strong.  
"Stay.. please." he murmured.  
"Are you okay? Is it Hell dreams?"  
"I'm fine. I have them every night regardless, so.."  
Kevin blinked in surprise.  
"You have a hell dream every night? Gosh, how long has this been going on?"  
"Since I was ten..."  
Elder McKinley whispered that last word quietly, weakly, as if he was in pain every time he admitted it. Kevin tried to keep his jaw from dropping open. That explained the eyebags. He drew Elder McKinley in for a hug, and felt the other missionary quiver and flinch away.  
"What are your dreams about?"  
"I have g-ga..gay thoughts."  
"It's okay. It's okay to cry, Elder. You can follow every other verse. You can never so much as act on your thoughts. You can pray every night and spend Christmas at church. It's just one verse. You'll be okay." Kevin rubbed soothing circles on Connor's back.  
"We both know that isn't true. Romans 1:26-27. For this cause God gave them up unto vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And likewise also the men.." Elder McKinley rattled off, something he clearly had deeply ingrained into himself.  
"Leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompense of their error which was meet. I know, Elder. But remember, 1 Peter 4:8. Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins." Kevin responded, patiently indicating he knew the Bible just as well as Elder McKinley.  
"Connor. Call me Connor."  
Kevin drew away from the hug to sit next to him, his head on Elder McK- Connor's shoulder. Connor. He rolled that name around on his tongue, experimenting with it, as if it was new and unfamilliar.  
"Breaking rules now? Well, I guess I have no choice to reciprocate. Kevin. Kevin Price."  
Connor laughed, his eyes glassy, filled to the brim with tears.  
"We'll be okay, won't we?"  
"Mhm... I like to think so, yeah."  
Maybe there were others, also cracked, just like Kevin, who managed to hide it under weak plaster and school glue.

~ ~ ~

Of course, the world just hates Kevin Price, and as he watched Naba be baptised by his mission companion, he found nothing but jealousy boiling under his thin composure.  
"Of course, you probably won't be able to parade your faith around everywhere, because of the General and all that."  
He heard Elder Cunningham nervously laugh to himself and Kevin had an idea. Actually, an idea suggested he was thinking, which he really wasn't in that moment. But he had settled it. He was going to convert General Butt-Effing-Naked, because he was a good Mormon boy who went through some issues and is okay now.

The last thing he distinctly remembered doing was storming into the warlord's camp and doing something involving preaching..?

Hands. Hands touched his skin, rough and coarse, and he couldn't tell whose they were. This was a million times worse than a Hell dream, Kevin decided. He felt his body, bruised and weak and flimsy and so useable for your desires, shoved against a surface. A table? A chair? He couldn't tell. He heard snickers and... moans? Jesus Christ, how the fuck was someone getting off of this? This was vile and painful and he wanted it to end. Everything hurt and he really couldn't see... blood? Was he bleeding? He couldn't tell. He was here, in the open, used and left to die. Were they done with him..? God, men don't get r- He couldn't bring himself to say the word. He heard giggles as pain shot up that.. part of him. There was paper, and something warm and sticky- He was bleeding both on his forehead and that.. place. There was so much pain as he felt something go up him.. paper.. Book of Mormon? Oh God, was his holy book being shoved up his ass? No, that couldn't be possible, could it? He felt himself being let go, hands no longer touching his skin, dirty.. He was so dirty and disgusting. He couldn't see.. dumped onto the floor? Left to die... disgusting, vile, a fucking slut.

Kevin Price had cracked. He was a goner, a shadow of porcelain that had been shattered. He, who once painted the world with cracks, beautiful and damaged, was now broken and alone. The bleeding had stopped, and he pulled up his pants and tried to walk. No one could ever know about this, he quickly decided. He had been stupid, and this was his punishment from the Lord. He deserved this, he thought to himself between stumbles and muffled sobs of pain. And everything was ruined, as he laid in the hot sand, sobbing and clutching his sides.

It was Nabulungi who found him, almost dead, half-hidden behind a bush. She almost didn't recognise him. His skin was red from the sweltering Ugandan sun, his eyes lifeless and no longer filled with the ambition she was used to seeing, and he was just... lying there, like God had abandoned him and there was nothing left to live for.  
"Oh my fucking god... Kevin, is that you?"  
A quiet grunt came out of the once vibrant body of Kevin Price.  
"Jesus Christ, what happened?" She reached to help him up when he suddenly flinched.  
"Shush... it'll be okay... It was General Butt-Fucking-Naked, wasn't it?"  
The horror of those few minutes flooded back to Kevin the moment Naba mentioned his name. The world had cracked for Kevin Price, leaving a traumatised, scared shell in its wake.

Coffee. Lots of coffee. He didn't want to sleep, to ever return to that hell. God was dead and he was drinking coffee, because it helped him stay alert and awake and sane. Sanity. Was he sane? Had he finally lost it? He never wanted to sleep again. The bitter taste of black coffee reached Kevin's lips, and his thoughts no longer spiralled. It was his seventh or eighth cup that afternoon. All the other missionaries were away either baptizing people or celebrating the fact that they've finally started baptizing people, so they weren't here to judge. They weren't here to judge the fact that the amazing Kevin Price, all-American extraordinaire, had been.. did it even count as rape? Sexually assaulted? He didn't know, but he sunk into letting his thoughts blur, because at least then, he wouldn't remember them later. The book was out of his ass, sure, but he still remembered the pain, clear as day.

_One more cup.._

"We are still Latter-Day Saints. Even if we change some things, or break some rules, or have no faith that God exists at all."

The mission president had arrived earlier today. He was one of those businessmen with an unreadable face and no sense of humour. He had no cracks, just like God intended. But he didn't seem very heavenly. If he was the physical representation of the Celestial Kingdom, Kevin decided he would rather spend eternity in the Outer Darkness. He had seemed proud of District Nine, until Nabulungi and the other villagers started their performance. Kevin had to admit, it was pretty impressive how the poor guy did a complete 180 from 'you're the best district I've ever seen' to 'you're ex-communicated from the church'. God knows what Elder Cunningham had been telling the poor villagers in the few days he was left alone. The show was fucking hilarious. He was clutching his sides laughing, (Maybe clutching was an exaggeration; his sides were still pretty bruised, after all.) and the other elders seemed to all be impressed by some aspect of it. The mood instantly dampened from 'shocked, but hilarious' to 'we're going to be disowned' the moment the president announced their ex-communication. Kevin had decided it was for the better though, and they didn't need the church's support to live a fulfilling life. And maybe, not everything was ruined.

"What's up with you? You've been here for the past week. Have you even slept since we were ex-communicated?"  
Connor looked at Kevin, a motherly (albeit hypocritical) sense of annoyance shrouding that particular night. Kevin was seated on the couch, clutching a throw pillow and delicately using both his hands to hold a mug of black coffee. Since they were now ex-communicated, they all had decided breaking a few rules was okay, meaning Kevin could drink coffee now without the others judging.  
"Hypocritical humour?"  
"Fudge you, Kevin."  
"I guess.. this past fortnight has just been crazy. I saw a guy get shot, we've been excommunicated, and I've almost died multiple times."  
Connor put his cup of green tea down, eyes widening.  
"Elaborate?"  
Kevin stopped.  
"That was a joke. Nothing much. Doesn't mean anything."  
Connor looked at him, confused. It was the same face he made when Kevin had introduced himself. That seemed like years ago now, when things were breezy.  
"Asshole."  
A few of the elders had taken to swearing, Kevin included. Connor only swore occassionally, so this surprised Kevin. It must have shown on his face, because the district leader hit the other ex-missionary on the side. Before he could stop himself, Kevin let out a sound of pain. Connor gasped.  
"Are you okay?"  
"...Uhm.. what do y..you mean?"  
Kevin's eyes were suddenly glassy with tears that were threatening to spill out.  
Oh god, don't cry in front of Connor fucking McKinley.  
"You don't seem like yourself, Kevin Price." Connor took a breath as if he was about to start a rant, "You've been quiet and sad, and you haven't slept for multiple days. You drink coffee now, apparently, and your eye-bags are darker than the Outer Darkness. Whenever someone touches you, you flinch, and all you seem to want to do is lie in your bed. What gives?"

Kevin wanted nothing more than to crawl away into the gaps between the seats in the couch and never come back out. A part of him knew he had to tell someone, but he convinced himself he could turn it off, repress his feelings, never feel again, because that's what everyone else does, right? And the cracks in Kevin Price became bigger and bigger, stabbed into the wall with so much anger and finally shattering the glass wall he sentenced himself to all those years ago. He decides to try though.  
"I... someone sexually assualted me."  
He settled for such a soft, indirect phrase, because the only alternative is the word 'rape', and that doesn't happen to men. He regretted the words the moment he said them because Connor's face seemed to go dark.  
"Who? What..? And... and you never thought to tell anyone? Jesus Christ dude.."  
Connor seemed more angry at himself than anyone else. Kevin hated that such an amazing person was so angry because of him. Kevin deserved it, the General doing that to him, after all. Why was Connor so distraught?  
The candlelight made Connor's red hair a soft orange. It would be pretty and romantic, if they weren't discussing a traumatic event. Gaining composure, the ginger started again using his best I'm-your-friend-and-district-leader voice.  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
"Not particularly."  
Kevin bit his lip. He looked down at his hands and sipped on more coffee. After a moment of uncomfortable silence, he opened up.  
"It was my fault.. don't interrupt me," he frowned at Connor who was trying to interject, "I stormed into General Butt-Fucking-Naked's camp on my own. I wanted to be incredible, I guess. Or, I was just mad Arnold had baptised more people than me." He laughed mercilessly, with no hint of happiness in his voice. "That turned out well, huh. After preaching about Mormonism, he got his guards to.. to grab my arms and uhm.."  
He wiped a silver tear rolling down his cheek. "h-..he threw me onto a table and took that fucking book and he.. he fucking.."  
Kevin was crying now, leaning his head onto Connor's shoulder. He paused, focusing on his breathing before trying again.  
"He got the Book of Mormon and uhm... shoved it there. There was blood. So much fucking blood. The his guards dropped me and just... left me for dead."  
Kevin looked at Connor to gauge how he was reacting.  
"And who found you?"  
Connor's voice was calm, though hiding shock.  
"I walked.. stumbled, actually, to a bush, and I just stayed here, thinking it was a nice place to die." Connor was also crying now. Kevin went on. "Naba found me. She didn't ask what happened. I think she knew the general idea behind it. Later, I went to Gotswana's clinic. He's okay at taking things out of asses, who would have guessed?" He smiled to himself, but when Connor didn't chuckle, he stopped speaking.  
"And that's generally what happened."  
Connor's hands, cupped around his mug of green tea, were white.  
"And then you carried on, as if nothing happened."  
"Yeah."  
"Did it ever occur to you, for even one fucking second, that we were here to help? That we could, oh, I don't know, be relieved you didn't fucking die that night?"  
His mouth was twisted into a snarl.  
"I'm sorry, sorry, I thought you'd think of me as like a slut or something.. please don't hurt me.. please.." Kevin gasped through sobs.

Connor's expression softened into one of pity. Kevin wasn't sure if this expression was much better than his face of anger and distrust.  
"I love you, Kevin Price. I've loved you since you entered this room, so egotistical and full of yourself. And it honestly feels like you don't love, or even like me back. You never even told me you were raped by the General, for God's sake. How am I supposed to trust you, to still love you when you don't trust me? Hun, you've really hurt me. You know those Hell dreams? They've been about you. You're not the only person hiding their feelings. I'm sorry you ever came here, but we have to adapt and change. You'll be okay with me and Elder Cunningham here. I promise."  
Kevin felt himself tear up. He was never as elegant with words as Connor, Connor with the sunset orange hair in the candlelight, Connor with the pale, soft skin, Connor with the loving blue eyes, Connor, everything was Connor..  
The kiss was nice. It lasted for only around two seconds and was chaste, but it made Kevin's stomach flip-flop and spin. He was brought back to reality by Connor.  
"How are you so blasé about.." he gestures to Kevin, "Everything? I mean, you kissed me like it was no big deal, like it hasn't been something I've been dreaming of since you got here. Oh my gosh, is this another dream? If it is I will hate you so much, Kevin.."  
Kevin laughed, truly laughed, for the first time since he saw the unidentified man get shot.  
"I'm pretty sure it's real."  
"So, what are we now? Boyfriends?"  
Kevin hesitated, once again biting his lip.  
"I don't really think I'm ready for that, given everything that's.. happened."  
"The rape." Connor stated firmly, acknowledging it's presence in the room.  
"Yeah, the rape. Sorry."  
"That's okay; you have nothing to be sorry about. I'm willing to wait to for you."  
Kevin's eyes were glassy and wide.  
"Really?"  
"Really truly."  
And, with Elder Cunningham as his right-hand man, and Connor at his left, and Naba and all the other elders within touching distance, Kevin's cracks might just heal with time, and not Blu-tack and sticky tape.


End file.
